As Expected, My Post-Ten Year Reunion Story Goes Oddly
by With Death Comes More Death
Summary: All paths diverge, but no matter what, the strings of fate keep you tied together. Life will always find a way to pull and drag you back.
1. Prologue

Hey, look, it's a new piece by me. It's only been, like, a year? Not that long.

See if you can get all the things I'm off-branding.

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**Prologue | The Details of My Return are Not What I Expected.**

…

Working with other people was inescapable. One's aptitude for such interactions didn't matter, if you were alive, you had to work with other people.

As a kid, I was eager to adhere to this rule of social interaction; as a teenager, I fought against it with all my might. Now, as a ten year veteran of adulthood, I found myself lodged firmly in the middle.

Dealing with people was still something I had trouble with, that very much carried over from my time as a teen, but I learned to not loathe it outright. At the least, I've gotten to the point where I can work with others without making my discomfort obvious. It was a lesson one had to learn at the risk of becoming a shut-in NEET, and while the life of a lazy degenerate spent entirely inside never sounded unappealing to me, it just wasn't realistic. One had to go through life relying on others to survive and that was a fact.

My current line of work, at the very least, kept it to all the stuff I didn't enjoy.

"Alright Eight, final round. You're doing great." My coach, Jared Del Tierra, spoke tersely as he knelt down in front of me. The tan, stockily-built man knelt down in front of me as two others did the same. Darrell Howard — the lanky, dark-skinned man to my coach's left — went to work on the small cut that had been opened up right under my right eye, pressing a cotton swab drenched in a liquid that stung on contact up to it. "Keep going with that pressure. You've drained the life out of him with your clinch work and movement, so now's the time to open up on him. Try for that finish, but watch that left hand of his. It's been the only thing that's been landing for him."

I nodded as the man to Jay's right, a pale man with a similar build to Darrell named Kevin Burrell, handed me a water bottle, which I snatched out of his hand.

Opening it and pouring its contents into my mouth, I swished the water in my mouth and spit it out to rid my mouth of the taste of iron. My body felt heavy, my lungs burned, my face was numb, and my heart was beating out of my chest. "All in a day's work" is probably what I would say if I wanted to sound cool, but life wasn't an action movie and unlike some of my peers, I wasn't a big enough masochist to pretend that this didn't feel awful.

Yet my legs bounced as my coaches did their work as I stared over to the other side of the ring, where my opponent sat. A physical oddity for our division, his name was Julio "The Carnivore" Cortez and he stood at 180 cm. A tall, lanky fighter who towered over essentially the entire division, he liked to use his extensive Muay Thai background to kick the legs out from underneath fighters and/or pick them off with his vastly superior reach.

From very recent experience, I knew that his left hand was both fast and accurate. Be it a jab to keep me at distance or a check left hook to catch me as I closed in, both caught me regularly. Thankfully, due to the nature of someone Cortez's height cutting down to 135, there was enough power taken off of them that I was able to tank through, get close, and press him up to the cage. A simple plan, really the only one I've ever deployed, but it was more than effective against Cortez.

Shoulders slumped, mouth hanging wide open, and head firmly locked onto his coach. I could see all that I had done to him. It was why I stood up from my stool, even though I still had ten more seconds until the final round started.

"There's no way you're not up on the cards." My eyes never left Cortez as Jay gave a bit of final advice. "Let's go get that belt, alright? You're almost there, kid."

I nodded and my cornermen quickly exited through the door where they came in, leaving the ring to be occupied by three people: me, Cortez, and the referee, Jean Planter. A dreadlocked, dark-skinned man dressed in the standard all-black garb mandated by our employer. He stood in the middle of the ring with one arm raised towards me and the other towards my opponent.

"Alright, final round, gentlemen," Planter called out looking over towards me. "You two ready?" I nodded once. He then looked over towards Cortez, who did the same. "Fight!"

At that, Planter threw his arms down towards the center of the ring and the round bell rung.

Almost immediately, Cortez walked over to the center of the ring with his lead hand, his right, raised in the air. My mind recognized the gesture immediately and I did the same, although begrudgingly. Not being one for niceties, I was naturally against outward shows of respect like glove touching and refrained from doing so unless the act was initiated by someone else. For that reason, I found myself being irritated by the smile on Cortez's face and the applause that came from the crowd of thousands that circled the cage.

'Oi, we're here to beat the shit out of one another. You all know that, right? Stop trying to incentivize friendliness and respect when all you really want to see is exactly the opposite! You're all bloodthirsty savages, start acting more like it!'

Pushing that prospective monologue to the side (to have later when I was alone), I returned my focus to my opponent who had already entered his fighting stance. Fairly conventional Muay Thai fare. Hands kept up high around head level, chin angled down into his chest, back straight and tall, pelvis pointed straight at me, and body weight shifting back and forth between his lead and front legs like a metronome.

My body reacted to the shift in stance before my mind did and got me into my own fighting stance. Standing on the balls of my feet, I pointed my left hip towards Cortez, crouched down so that my upper back was slightly curved, and made sure to keep most of my weight on my back leg.

Almost immediately, Cortez used his rocking to disguise him putting his weight onto his back leg and threw a kick at my own lead leg. All of this had been done in a practiced instant. It would've caught me on the inner thigh in the earlier rounds, when I didn't have its timing, but not now.

Pull left leg back and use momentum to quick switch into southpaw, Cortez's kick misses completely leaving him off-balance but I know that it won't be for long. Swing hips out to my right to bump while he is, duck down dramatically lower to avoid coming jab, misses as intended. Feign right hook and then throw left hook to the body. Feign works as intended, Cortez puts up left hand and leaves his body open. It's slower than usual but the follow-up hook still lands right under his ribcage. Back up out of kicking range in southpaw and gauge reaction. Not visibly hurt, but wincing. Good, but still can't let him breathe. He immediately got back into position in the middle of the cage. That was not so good.

Shuffle feet for a couple of seconds while moving my head back and forth. Cortez gets close enough to kick but doesn't throw. A few more seconds pass as we stare at one another.

Plant back leg off shuffle, lunge forward for test jab. Stop self when I see Cortez shift back onto his back leg again. When lead leg hits canvas, lean back. Just barely miss getting a knee into the ribs. Keep weight on back leg for any following strikes. Good idea. Cortez goes for a lunging right cross upon resetting from the knee, lean left to avoid and then start retreating as his punch throws him off balance.

Hop back and then swing right hip to switch back into orthodox, reset footing. Cortez takes moment to reset footing. Is visibly winded and is getting desperate to land. Is clear from how he loaded up on that cross. Most likely banking on winning by finish. Not gonna happen.

Get off centerline, alternate between pacing to my left and right. Occasionally lean in close to bait out strikes as I did earlier in the fight. Gets no reaction out of Cortez. Possibly waiting for me to commit to a strike, probably a jab or another straight punch. Gotta come in with something unexpected. Creep into striking distance, shuffle step, and throw a right leg kick but have right hook loaded up behind it for deterrent. Kick lands right above the knee, which buckles somewhat but regains balance almost an instant later. Right hook misses but that was expected, at least forces him back and keeps him from countering immediately.

'Hm… Probably didn't expect that. Probably shouldn't try that again—'

"Push! Push! Push!" Even among the general noise of the crowd around me, I could hear Jared call out to me. "You know what to do by now!"

I chided my coach for being redundant. My body had started moving the moment I heard the first 'push'.

Rush forward as Cortez backs up, hop in to keep feet in the right position. Pull left hand up to my head as I get into striking range. He throws a check left hook as expected. Slip into the hook to preemptively load hips, catch arm with left hand and throw it down. Slide lead foot forward to open stance and put all of my hips into a counter right hook. I feel my hand land clean on his chin before I see it.

The next instant, Cortez's body was crumpled down at my feet and my instincts took control.

Jump on Cortez, put left hand on his right shoulder and lean body weight onto it. Hook to the head, hook to the head, hook to the head, hook to the head, hook to the—

Before I could throw another punch at my downed opponent, my arm was intercepted mid-swing by something snaking itself under my right arm and across my chest. It pulled and I quickly found myself being lifted away from Cortez's limp body and up onto my feet. The force spun me up onto my feet, facing away from where I knew where Planter was checking on Cortez, but I was only able to take two steps away before my legs gave out under me. Somehow, my body still had enough self-preservation instincts left to make sure I did so in a way that wouldn't lead to me hurting myself.

Celebrating was never something I enjoyed doing, especially right after a finish victory. There was something about the thought of me running around the cage, screaming and pounding my chest like a lot of my other peers that filled me with great shame. Maybe it was the fact that it reminded me of my days as a chuunibyou, where I would often celebrate victories against make-believe enemies with boisterous JoJo-like poses. The cringe those memories elicited made me want to roll around on my couch and beg for a swift, merciful death. So, naturally, I kept any post-fight celebrations limited to a small pump of my right fist. Sometimes I would even raise it in the air whenever I felt extra good about a finishing sequence. I had gone into tonight's fight thinking that I'd do something similar, despite the higher stakes involved. That, however, did not happen.

Instead, I slapped at the ground under me twice and screamed. I couldn't hear myself over the crowd around me, but I could feel that it was probably the loudest I've ever been.

…

"Ladies and gentlemen, referee Jean Planter has called a stop to this contest at four minutes, one second in round number five. Declaring the winner by knockout! And the _new_, interim OFC bantamweight champion of the world! Hachiman "8-Man" Hikigaya!"

…

As I said, I'm not someone who enjoyed celebrating at all. That extended out to things like parties as well, though the reasoning for that was pretty obvious.

Years of being ignored by society made being the center of attention difficult. By the time I was in my teens, I learned to absolutely loathe all social gatherings and did my best to avoid them like the plague. If I didn't need to, I didn't go. Social obligation still existed, of course, but that only made me loathe parties even more. As an adult, I still hated them with all my heart, but I've learned to perceive them as more of a necessary evil. An unfortunate reality of my career was that being an OFC fighter had very little to do with actual fighting, and dealt more with currying fan interest and support.

Wait, huh? What? Are you, aka me, trying to say that your desired career choice wasn't all it was cracked up to be? That it was actually a quagmire of bullshit that has nothing to do with what you signed up for but have to deal with if you want to be successful? Wow, you're a real martyr there. I feel so bad. Lol.

On a less sarcastic note, that wasn't the case with me. Life was more often than not disappointing and if that wasn't the case now, it would find a way to disappoint you later. Source: me. So, just like all major life decisions, I made sure to weigh all the positives and negatives before committing to anything. That being said, I still hated all of them with a passion. Post-fight interviews were nerve-wracking, even though my relationships with all the commentary crew were at least amicable; press conferences were a little bit more so, but that depended on how much I was the focus; and I did my best to avoid media scrums and interviews because those were the worst.

Another example of the media playing into my job were things like after-parties. While they themselves were entirely optional, it was still a good idea to have them. On a micro-scale, it was a good reward for everyone on my team, since all wins in MMA were a team effort and they always got the least amount of credit. I, being ever the pragmatist, knew it was a good idea to keep those people happy since they were the primary reason why I've gotten so far.

On a macro-scale, after parties were also a good financial decision since we could open them up to the public and charge for entry/knick knacks/souvenirs. Why anyone would pay to meet a guy who beats up other people for a living, especially someone as wholly uninteresting outside of fighting as me, was baffling, but money was money. And I, like my corporate slave parents before me, thoroughly enjoyed making money. It may make me feel like a sideshow animal, but I couldn't say that the result didn't blunt the damage slightly.

With all that being said, I was happy to finally walk into my hotel room and find a space that was free of all people, even if it was only four by eight meters in size.

Letting the door swing close with a dull bang behind me, I switched on the lights and made my way over to the queen-sized bed that I called my own for the past week, which was still a mess. The top sheet was strewn all over, leaving an almost circular indent in the bottom layer that I knew only existed because of my tossing and turning. The hotel had provided me with two pillows and only the one on the right was where I originally found it. Although, it was now somewhat crooked. The other lay vertically facing and in the middle of the mattress.

Being unable to stand how stuffy my party clothes were any longer, I rid my pockets of their contents and moved to put them on my nightstand, but stopped when my phone's home screen lit up and showed that I had, at some point, received a text message. Well, actually, there were a lot of notifications on screen. Interim or not, I did just become a world champion and that was something people would talk about. However, those were all from Twitter and not my phone's text messaging app, which meant that it had to be somewhat important as I rarely gave out my number.

I unlocked my phone with my thumbprint and checked my messages, my eyebrow raising when I saw that it was from none other than my boss and president of the OFC, Daniel Wright.

'Hey champ, fucking great fight out there tonight. Can't believe anyone thought you were the underdog going into that fight.' My lips pursed at that. I could hear him loud talking at me. 'By the way, had an idea that I wanted to bounce your way. Already ran it by your agent and he approved, all we need is your approval. Call me up when you can and we'll flesh out all the details.'

A part of me wanted to chide my boss for his use of Western figurative language. I came from the exact opposite direction, so how was I supposed to know what 'fleshing out the details' means? What did it matter that I was already pretty well acquainted with a lot of Western idioms? That shouldn't mean anything! Respect my Eastern sensibilities, goddammit!

Letting out a sigh, I glanced over at my bed and stared at it for several moments, before turning back to my phone and navigating to my contacts.

…

'Chiba City, huh? Well, I guess I can't say it doesn't make _any_ sense.'

All of a sudden my mouth tasted bitter as I threw myself back onto my bed. The mattress was somewhat stiff under me and caused my neck a lot of discomfort as it failed to sink into the hotel mattress. My arms were still far too tender from blocking to put any sort of weight on and my actual pillows were way too far away to get.

My phone felt warm and heavy in my hand as I continued to ponder the offer given to me by my boss.

Business wise, Wright proposed a simple but effective angle. My win tonight didn't just reward me with a fancy gold belt, it made me a technical world champion. This would give me certain privileges like a bigger base salary and pay-per-view points, which were basically a cut of the profits the company got from pay-per-views. The more your card was bought, the more money you received. A cruel but effective way to get the biggest fighters in the company to care about making marketable fights.

Being a champion in the OFC, the world's most famous MMA company, also got you a lot of renown. Win the title in any other promotion? No one would even blink. They'd say, "Oh, so you're a world champion? For what company? Oh. Isn't that, like, the minor leagues though?" People cared when you were an OFC champion, even those who wouldn't normally care because they've at least heard of the name before.

People like the government officials who ruled over Chiba City, my hometown, who just heard that a young man who was born and raised there just became a world champion. What exacerbated things even further was the fact that Japan, despite being the birthplace of many forms of martial arts essential to MMA and having a long history of enjoying the sport, never had a fighter become world champion in the OFC.

That was, however, before I knocked out Julio Cortez and got a piece of one. Now, all of a sudden, the world wanted a piece of me…. Wow, great job me. That sounded pretty cool! I should write that down somewhere and use it if the situation ever arises.

Anyways, it seemed that Chiba City was opening a major arena and they wanted a big opening event, and what would be a greater draw than Japan's first technical world champion chasing the real belt?

It all made sense and I wasn't one to turn down that sort of opportunity, so what's with this taste in my mouth?

Before I could contemplate the cause, my phone vibrating caught my attention. It being in my hand still, I angled it so that I could see my screen and stared at it. My eyes ran over the words and my mind just barely recognized that it was an email notification.

Absent-mindedly, I swiped on the notification to open it and read the message but stopped when I realized that it was written entirely in kanji. Eyes narrowing at that, I checked to see the subject, which read:

'Heya senpai~!'

…

**Chapter End.**

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Hey, look the thing I made ended. Hope you enjoyed the thing I did. If it was not to your liking or if you had any questions, feel free to ask or wait until the next chapter comes out where I'll explain a lot more there. It will come out by the way, but it's a pretty ambitious idea, so it might take a while.

Also, follow my twitter CattySunz. I don't tweet at all, but I can be persuaded into doing that as I have a lot of shitty opinions and I also follow a bunch of porn/dank meme accounts. So, um, if you like porn and dank memes, you should follow me. I'm the one with Dante from Devil May Cry's distorted face as a profile picture. DM me your dank memes and/or questions about the chapter, I guess. It's whatever if you don't.


	2. Progress Update and Teaser

Yo, so this is just gonna be a quick update chapter/teaser for things to come. Since I apparently have a bit of a problem with things like accountability with my stories and such, I just wanted to take the time to update all of you on my progress and when you might expect things to be released.

Things are going well as of right now. It's a fairly ambitious (at least for me) chapter that's going to be me trying to weave three different perspectives, Komachi's not being included, into one cohesive chapter, so that's why any updates are taking a decently long time. It's going to be fairly long chapter (the one perspective is about 5,000 words long for example) if that's any consolation.

I am shooting for a completion date of the end of August, though I may play hard and loose on that because I'm both a lazy asshole and the sorta asshole that hates when what I write isn't up to a certain quality. Also college starts back up then too.

Anyways, not wanting to leave you guys empty-handed, here's a snippet that I planned to have in the next chapter originally but decided to cut. It's much longer but it sorta deteriorated into redundant rambling towards the end.

Anyways, see you around the end of August (hopefully)!

…

**Additional Chapter #1 | Of Course, Reactions to a Certain Event Will Be Different, Part Komachi.**

…

An older brother's job was to protect and look after their young sister. Likewise, a younger sister's job was to encourage her older brother in any pursuit he chose to follow. That's what I grew up believing wholeheartedly.

"Ladies and gentleman, referee Jean Planter has called a stop to this contest at four minutes, one second in round number five. Declaring the winner by knockout!" That's why my response to what was happening on the TV was tears stream down my cheeks, despite my inability to understand what the announcer was actually saying. "And the _new_, interim OFC bantamweight champion of the world! Hachiman "8-Man" Hikigaya!"

One would assume that if someone told the story of a young man who went against his parents' wishes and forsook a normal career path to pursue his dream of cage-fighting professionally, the younger sister that he always doted on would be the one to support him when no one else did. That she'd watch and cheer him on for every one of his fights, even when they took place way too early in the morning or extremely late at night (due to the 13-15 hour time gap that existed between here and there). That she'd cry tears of joy when all of his efforts finally paid off and he achieved all of his goals, like getting to fight in the organization at the tippy top of the mixed-martial arts world.

Unfortunately, none of that was the case at all.

When Hachiman first told me about him taking a few Judo classes, he had done so during offhandedly and framed it as a one-off thing. That he had won a voucher for a few free classes at a gym close to his school, Chiba City University, and decided to not let them go to waste because free things were precious to him. I didn't think about it twice then. It was such a _him_ thing to do! What else would I think?

I never thought that he would pursue it to the lengths he did, that it'd take up his entire life, and would be the catalyst for his choice to move to an entire country away.

The announcement completely blindsided me when he made it at that year's family dinner, or at least, it felt like it did. He, of course, had mentioned deciding to continue to take classes, that he started to partake in amateur fights around the city, and that he had aspirations to go professional after he finished school, but I never took any of them seriously.

To me, up until that point, it was just his hobby. But to him, the entire time, it was his life. I never could've anticipated that it would ever pry my big brother away from me.

This was the first fight of his I've ever seen and that made him feel much farther than just a country away.

…

**Chapter End.**


	3. Chapter 1, Part Isshiki

Yo, so I wasn't able to get the entire chapter done before the end of August. Mainly because I've been a lazy asshole. That's my b. Here's the part that I did finish to tide you over until then. Also, I'm somewhat buzzed rn so this is a bit of an impromptu decision and I didn't check to see if there are any typos, which is my bad.

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**Chapter 1.1 | Of Course, Reactions to a Certain Event Will Be Different, Part Isshiki.**

…

"Isshiki-chan, how goes sending out invitations?" A part of me wanted to sigh at the question, but that would come off as totally rude. Like, I know that you haven't changed much since high school, Shiromeguri-san, but there's a literal sheet of paper with names crossed out on the table. You could've just looked at that, instead of taking up my time, y'know?

Hoping that my irritation wasn't too evident, I glanced over towards my former upperclassman and felt the urge to grimace immediately. It wasn't that I disliked Shiromeguri per se, it's just that I found everything about her somewhat difficult to deal with! I mean, just look at her! With her messily braided light brown hair, infuriatingly innocent smile, and adorably plain clothes. Who wouldn't feel uncomfortable being around that?

"Ah, no need to worry about me, Shiromeguri-san!" Being a master of restraining myself, I was able to say that with vigor and excitement, even though I felt anything but. "I'm already a third of the way through!"

"Wow, you've been so productive! Amazing job, Isshiki-san! I should've expected as much from my successor."

A part of me beamed at the praise, but another part wanted to scream at Shiromeguri to leave me alone so I could get my allotted work done and go home. "T-Thanks…?" Oh no, that came out sounding awkward! Quick, switch your charm on! Close your eyes and smile! Raise your closed fist! Ah, perfect execution! "This sorta thing is a piece of cake for me!"

"Please keep up the hard work then!" Disgust filled me as I saw the smile that accompanied Shiromeguri's response. It felt like I was looking into a cracked mirror. "If you need any help, don't hesitate in asking. Everyone is doing such an amazing job that it seems that I have hardly anything to do."

"Of course, of course~! I'll come right to you if I feel like I'm having trouble." 'Oi, you trying to pick a fight? Did I ever ask for your help. No? Then, why are you offering it to me, you—?'

"Shiromeguri-san, we've finished narrowing down the possible venues for the event!" A voice from across the room, to my left, stopped me from finishing my insults. Knowing the voice well enough to know that it was the head of the vice-head of the alumni association, I didn't bother in craning my head to look behind Shiromeguri to see what he wanted. "Can you come and see if they're all to your liking? We can start narrowing them down soon after."

Shiromeguri turned to look over her shoulder and let out a noise of surprise. "Ah, alright! I'll be right there." She turned back to face me. "Sorry, Isshiki-chan! Looks like I'm needed."

"N-No, don't mind me!" I literally waved off her concerns as I said that. "I can take care of this much on my own."

Shiromeguri bowed and apologized once more before then turning to rush over to the other four people who occupied this room, Sobu High School's Alumni Association, who were all gathered at the opposite end of the room. We were all sat at this really long table and on their end of the table, they had a city map laid out with several points circled in red marker. Due to the angle, I couldn't tell what locations they chose, but I very quickly realized that I didn't actually care.

The thought of letting out a sigh once again crossed my mind, but I dashed it in favor of leaning forward and massaging my pounding temples. This wasn't even my school year's reunion for goodness's sake! Why did Shiromeguri even ask me to help out? Actually, wait, why did I even agree?!

Once again, I found myself cursing the fact that the two of us just so happened to end up working for the same company. That, however, only caused my mood to worsen as it reminded me of how I had spent all of yesterday running errands and now, I was taking time out of my only other day off here when I could be relaxing or doing some other infinitely more enjoyable thing.

Glancing back down at the laptop in front of me, I pressed send on the email I had been typing out and crossed another name off of the list of alumni provided to me. Fortunately, despite my reluctance to be here, I was able to get all the way down to the students whose family names started with 'H' within forty or so minutes.

'_Ugh_! Alright, come on, Iroha! Let's do this! If you can get this done fast enough, you can head home and turn in early!'

Steeling myself for the work that awaited me, I checked the name list to see who was next for me to contact, but froze when I saw who it was.

'Hayama-senpai….'

Memories of my crush from first year flooded back into my mind. His perfect blonde hair, his perfect blue eyes, his perfect jawline, his perfect smile….

'Wow, I used 'perfect' a lot there, huh? Maybe that just goes to show how perfect he was!' I chuckled, smiled, and shook my head at that. 'I can't believe I ever thought like that.'

To my younger self, Hayato Hayama was a perfect man. Hotter than the Sun, cooler than the Antarctic, and more friendly than a hug from my mother. Somehow both second in academic rankings and ace of the school's football team. He even belonged to one of the richest families in all Chiba! There just wasn't a thing wrong with the guy. Out of everyone at Sobu, and maybe even the whole city, he was the most worthy target for my love and affection, though that went for just almost every other girl too. Yet, that perception didn't even last all the way through my first year. At some point, his perfection just stopped being… _attractive_ to me? Appealing? Well, whatever, something along those lines.

Hayama-senpai just started feeling too good to be true, I guess. I didn't really have any evidence to prove that or explain why. That's just how I felt.

'Haha, listen to me! I'm starting to sound like senpai—' The moment that nickname crossed my mind, memories of another boy flashed through my head.

Hikigaya Hachiman could only be described as Hayama's complete opposite. He wasn't at all ugly, but his creepy demeanor ruined any attractive feature he had; he could be awkward enough to make a dead fish seem like it had more charisma; and he was so aloof that a hissing snake felt more approachable.

Where Hayama exceeded in all aspects in life, Hachiman was almost painfully middling or flat out just sucked at. He ranked third in the entire school at Japanese, but he sucked so bad at science and math that it brought his overall rankings back down to the average. I would comment on his athletic ability, but I've never seen him even try to do anything physical so I couldn't say anything. The same went for how well-off his family was, although I could tell that they weren't hurting for money at all.

In short, he was imperfect in almost every way and yet, he was the one who made me smile when I thought of him. Who could really blame? There was just so much about him that me smile!

How he saw right through me, how he wasn't afraid to talk back, and how he would act all rude to me but would always dote on me one way or another. How could I not give my heart to that, if not just a little bit?

'Hm… I wonder what senpai's doing now?' Turning back to look at the list of names, I traced it down to Senpai's name and checked his contact information. 'Huh? What's with this phone number? Isn't this an American number?' Confusion caused my eyes to drift over back towards my laptop. I stared at it for a moment before committing to the idea that popped into my mind. 'Well, I do have time….'

Moving my hands over to the keyboard, I opened a new tab and typed into the search bar: "Hikigaya Hachiman."

'…Eh?'

…

Out of all the ways Hikigaya Hachiman could end up, I never expected this one.

The boy that I called senpai ten years ago was now a man - a man who I could hardly recognize. His medium length black hair, which had always resembled a mop plopped on someone's head, had been trimmed down and gotten under control. The sides and back were shaved down and faded into the top of his head, which remained long enough so that his fringe still covered most of his forehead but strayed no further than his brows. What used to be a boyish, clean-shaven face was replaced by time-refined features and stubble. No longer did he have the body of a lazy loner, who spent most of his days lying in bed (which he most definitely was). He didn't look like a bodybuilder or anything, but there was a lot more muscle than there was flab.

I would've had trouble recognizing him if it wasn't for him still having his trademark dead fish eyes and noticeable cowlick. Well, his general demeanor seemed to be more or less the same, if not more fitting. Now, he looked… _scary_? But in an alluring way! Not that totally creepy and off-putting like he used to be.

Hikigaya Hachiman looked like his most perfect self and I couldn't help but marvel at the result. If he had been like this back when we were in school…. Well, he still wouldn't have surpassed Hayama in my eyes, but he would've stolen my affection much faster.

Without any context, I would've been baffled by the change, but upon searching up his name, the answer was clear.

"Introducing first! Fighting out of the blue corner, a judoka, holding a professional record of ten wins and one loss. He stands at five feet nine inches tall, weighing in at 135 pounds. Fighting out of San Diego, California by way of Chiba City, Japan. Presenting, the number eight ranked bantamweight contender in the world! Hachiman '8-Man' Hikigaya!"

Even at 2pm in the afternoon, the bar I had relocated to cheered rowdily as Senpai was introduced. It was actually really comfy! Just a dozen wooden tables out in front of the bar area, which was lined with a dozen or so stools. The entire area was already taken due to the only TV being right in front of it, so I chose to watch from at an empty table in the back corner.

Senpai and a professional cage fighter were two images that still didn't quite resonate in my head, even though I was now staring at him stand in the middle of a cage, wearing nothing but a pair of white shorts that only went down to his mid-thigh and had his family name printed in red on his left thigh. He also wore what I assumed to be some sort of black boxing gloves, but these ones were smaller and had the fingers exposed.

Well, he wasn't quite standing. He was actually just leaning back onto the cage with his hands behind his back, looking as bored as can be as an old man in a very loud suit energetically introduced him to a crowd of what seemed to be thousands. That made me snicker. Such a Senpai thing to do!

The announcer introduced the other fighter to the crowd, being just as energetic and loud. Julio "The Carnivore" Cortez, or whatever. Tanned skin, skinny, and had his head shaved. Not that bad looking of a guy, but totally not my style. He was pretty tall too. The graphics at the start said that he was 5'11", which was… What? 180 cm or so? That made him five centimeters taller than Senpai!

That fact became more evident when the two came together at the center of the cage. The referee, who stood in between them, was saying something to them in English. Something about rules and touching gloves. Well, whatever he was saying, it was far less interesting than how the two men stared each other down before, eventually, pulling away and heading to their respective sides.

The other guy was looking down at Senpai with this goofy grin on his face. Not in a disrespectful way, but in a way that reminded me of someone…. Darn, I forget his name. Well, whatever. The fight was starting, so I pushed the thought aside for the time being.

All rowdiness in the crowd died when the opening bell rang and Senpai came to life.

I had known him for two years and I don't think I have ever seen him be so active. The moment the two got anywhere close to one another, he began to bounce around. Forward and back, left to right. Even when he stood still, he moved his feet or leaned his head close in. In comparison, the other guy moved much less. Outside of moving to make sure he was facing Senpai, he didn't do much.

The two remained like that for a bit. Maybe thirty seconds passed before either one did anything offensive. All of a sudden, Senpai just planted his feet and jumped at the other guy with a jab. It missed due to his opponent covering his head and leaning back, but got caught by an immediate kick to his left leg by Senpai and buckled for an instant.

Both fighters reset after that and returned to their earlier staredown, though it was a bit different this time around. Senpai started to step forward and motion as if he was about to throw a punch but didn't a lot more, and the other guy began to kick his front leg out straight ways. He didn't do so every time Senpai got close, only really doing so every so often.

Senpai made him miss every time. Most of the time, it was because he was too far away, but whenever he got caught stepping in to fake a punch, he would quickly pivot away as if it was his plan to begin with.

This cycle repeated itself for twenty or so seconds, repeating itself with slight alterations up until the point senpai shuffle his feet and stepped in. However, instead of throwing the punch he had been faking, he pulled his hand back and threw a straight right hand at the other guy's midsection. It landed and was immediately followed up by a wild uppercut left that had so much strength put behind it that Senpai seemed to move with it. That punch missed due to the other guy moving back and to his left, but unlike the last miss, Senpai followed his opponent and started to throw the moment he got back into range.

Two jabs at the head and then a straight right punch. The other guy brought his hands to cover the front of his face as he continued to back up. Unfortunately, due to the current camera angle of the TV feed, it was hard to tell if any of those punches landed or not. Either way, it got my heart racing.

'Woo! Get em, senpai!'

Before I knew it, the other guy backpedaled to the point where, if he did so any further, he'd go straight into the cage wall behind him and so, began moving to his left instead. Senpai followed him like a hawk and moved with him, only backing up when the other guy threw another front ways kick. It seemed to graze the left side of his ribs this time, but otherwise it didn't seem to affect him too much, which was evident when he just swung his hips back so that his right side was facing forward and got right back in front of his opponent.

The moment he did so, the other guy used his left leg to kick at his right one. This kick landed right under his knee and unlike his own kick, the impact caused his leg to buckle and stop him dead in his tracks. Despite that, his only reaction was to regain his footing and moved to cut the other guy off as he once again tried to move back to the center of the cage.

'Wow, I don't even think I saw him flinch there! Senpai turned into a real tough guy, huh?'

Once Senpai got himself into position and the other guy was trapped between him and the cage, he bounced around on his feet before suddenly bursting forward with a left punch. His target dodged by darting to his left, but ran right into Senpai who seemed to veer off into the same direction after his punch.

A moment later, Senpai had his left arm snaked under the other guy's right and his head pressed up into the other guy's throat. The two wrestled against the cage, both trying to hit the other as they did so. Senpai kept his offense to driving his right knee into his opponent's right stomach and left thigh. Every once in a while, he would punch at the head, thought they didn't seem to be doing much damage.

The other guy wasn't as active, although that was probably due to the fact that he was being pressed against a wall. He would punch and knee Senpai, but they looked all looked like they did, like, zero damage.

I took a moment to collect myself as they wrestled each other. This was all actually happening. Senpai really was a pro fighter! He threw punches and kicks and everything. And he looked really good at it too! I mean, they wouldn't call him the number eight ranked fighter in the world if he wasn't, right? What was the other guy ranked again? It was higher than Senpai, right?

Before I could try to remember that specific detail, my mind was brought back to the fight when the other guy suddenly turned and got himself off the cage. But before he could get away from Senpai, he was falling down to the ground with Senpai falling on top of him.

Once again, the two became a mass of flailing limbs as they began to roll around on the ground. Both men traded being on top of the other, before the action eventually settled with Senpai lying on top of the other guy, whose legs were wrapped around his waist. Some of the guys at the bar began to 'ooh' and clap, so I assume something impressive happened there?

Senpai then proceeded to punch at the man under him - said man began to writhe in an attempt to escape. Eventually, he would pull his upper body away from the other guy and proceed to come right back down with a right elbow straight into his opponent's brow.

This caused the other guy to surge with movement and shift onto his right hip, but before he could do anything, Senpai all of a sudden just slipped his leg out and laid himself on his opponent so that their bodies formed a 't'.

They stayed in that position for a while, although there was a lot of movement. Senpai did a lot more punching and elbowing as he held the other guy down, who continued to writhe under him. At one point, Senpai was able to pin down the other guy's right arm and trap his opponent's head with his right leg.

'Wow, Senpai's really flexible now, huh? Could I even do something like that? I mean, I guess I could since I'm a girl and all, but…' That thought process was cut short by the memory of how I nearly pulled a muscle trying to go up two steps of stairs at a time, rather than just one. Yep, best to not think about that—

Applause coming from the guys at the bar made me jump a bit. Glancing back over towards the TV, I saw the referee move toward the two fighters, who were already moving to untangle themselves from each other and move towards their respective sides. Huh, the round must've ended while I was thinking.

The camera followed Senpai as he strode back to his corner and from what I could see, he didn't even look like he broke a sweat! What was the other guy ranked again? It was higher than eight, right? That meant he was a higher rank than Senpai and despite that, he still completely dominated that round!

The TV feed cut away from Senpai's back to a replay of when Senpai had the other guy up on the cage, although it seemed to be from a different camera that was pointed at Senpai's back instead of his side.

In slow motion, the other guy pushed into Senpai's left to get off the cage, but as he did so, Senpai dropped down. In one motion, he grabbed the back of the other guy's leg and snaked his left leg behind the other, which tripped his opponent down to the ground as he tried to get away. That was when I realized why the guys at the bar started to cheer the exchange.

After seeing that, I started to wonder exactly what the other guy could do to win against Senpai and for some reason, that thought started to feel a lot less strange.

…

When that fourth round ended, my heart was beating so fast that I was surprised to see the referee step in between the two. So much happened, back and forth, yet one wouldn't know that by looking at Senpai. He looked as calm he did after the first round, although there was a lot more sweat on his body. Blood too now as well, all over his face and chest thanks to a cut that had opened up under his right eye. The dichotomy between the damage and the reaction was strange, but fascinating.

In contrast, when the camera cut to the other guy's corner, he looked like he had been in an actual fight. Granted, that made sense considering how Senpai was taking it to him. It just seemed like he had to put in a lot more effort to make things competitive.

The advice the two were getting from their coaches also sounded very different too. What either was really was beyond me as one was speaking English and the other was speaking Spanish I think, but the other guy's coaches spoke a lot quicker. Like, they weren't all panicky or anything, there was just a lot more talking going on. On his part, the other guy never took his eyes off his coach the entire time. Senpai's coaches didn't really say a lot and from how Senpai seemed to be staring off into space, I wondered if he was listening to them at all. Not a single part of me would be surprised if that were the case.

Senpai wasn't outright destroying the other guy, but there wasn't a part of me that thought that he was losing this fight. There was a moment or two where things got really close, but Senpai was never at a point where it seemed like he was losing. So, I could see why he'd ignore his coaches' advice if he was choosing not to listen to them.

'What a Senpai thing to do.' A smile crept onto my face

The referee called for the start of the round and brought my attention back to the fight, which started back up in a way that made me snicker.

The other guy went down into the middle of the cage with a hand raised up in the air, smiling the entire way. I didn't really know what he was trying to do, but Senpai recognized the gesture immediately and did the same, leading to the two touching hands. The crowd cheered (even the people at the bar) and the other guy smiled, but Senpai just grimaced the entire time.

'You're still like that even after all this time, huh?' For some reason, that thought made me smile, although it really only lasted up until the moment when both fighters had gotten ready to start fighting once again.

The other guy went for a kick-jab combo almost immediately, but whiffed on both as Senpai dodged both, before then circling to his right and throwing a looping right punch to the head. However, he canceled that halfway through in favor of ducking down and landing one to the other guy's ribs. It looked to me that it really didn't do much, but the guy still winced so I could guess that a lot more damage had been done and he just wasn't willing to show it.

For the other guy's part, he got right back into the center of the ring as Senpai took a step back. The two got into another staredown, where Senpai was once again started bouncing around and the other guy stayed planted to the ground. Although, he did take a step towards Senpai but didn't do much past that.

Senpai shuffled his feet and lunged forward for a jab with his right, which was met with the other guy shooting his knee up for a counter. Due to the camera angle, I couldn't tell if the knee hit Senpai or not, but he stopped moving forward and leaned back, and then to his left as to avoid a right from the other guy - a right that made the entire bar 'ooooooh' with the amount of power that was clearly put into it.

Senpai backed away towards the cage and began pacing side to side, doing all of the bouncy things that he had been doing the entire fight before firing off a right kick at the other guy's leg. That landed and caused the target to stumble a bit, and that was immediately followed up with a looping right hook that missed completely and backed the other guy up.

I expected Senpai to stay back, just like he had done the rest of the fight, but he just kinda burst forward. My body got all tense when I saw the other guy throw the same punch that knocked Senpai down the round previous, but before it could land, there was a flurry of movement from Senpai and the other guy was falling face first towards the ground.

Senpai dropped onto the other guy almost instantly, raining down shots from on top of him and only stopping when the referee came in to interfere. He pulled Senpai off, who took two steps towards the center of the cage before collapsing onto his back with his arms splayed out to his sides.

The TV feed cut to another angle of Senpai lying on the ground, staring up at the lights above him before showing more emotion than I've ever seen from him. He shut his eyes, slapped at the ground under him, and began to scream.

I didn't know how to react to that, although I could hear the guys at the bar going crazy.

…

"I'm home~!" As I stepped out of the heat and into my one room apartment, I slipped my shoes off and wondered just who in the world I was calling out to.

'At least Senpai's fight got finished before it got dark.' Sighing, I put my shoes off to the side and started to go about enjoying the day off that I was supposed to have before Shiromeguri asked me for help.

Throwing some leftover curry into the microwave, I replaced my stuffy business cute clothes with my loosest, comfiest shirt and switched on the TV.

'Hah?' I couldn't help but voice my surprise when the local news popped up on the screen. I never watched the news. Never! I mean, why waste time watching something when I could just get all my information from my phone? 'A special news update? Did something important happen during Senpai's fight—?'

"And the _new_, interim OFC bantamweight champion of the world! Hachiman "8-Man" Hikigaya!" A familiar old man's screaming came from my TV speakers and I very quickly realized what the news story would be about.

Not really feeling the need to listen to someone tell me information about something I watched happen live, my hand went over to the remote next to me and changed the channel to literally anything else. Thankfully, I found a drama that I liked pretty quickly and my microwave began to signal its completion. Wait, I think I've watched this episode already. Ah, whatever. Better than nothing, I guess.

It was very Western in style. The main character was a high school girl who was dating her senpai and the school's resident football ace, and everything was going well. Her boyfriend was _sooo_ handsome and charismatic, and everyone in the school admired him. Things changed when another senpai caught her attention. He was handsome, but he was lazy and antisocial, and his demeanor was so dark and depressing that most everyone in the school hated him. She grew closer and closer to him, before eventually finding that she was in love with him and not her perfect boyfriend.

Super unrealistic and cliche, sure, but I still liked it for some reason.

Retrieving my food, my mind wandered back to Senpai. Not really about his fight because my thoughts on that were done and done, but how he acted after it. He was so emotional, much more emotional than I had ever seen him. It made sense considering how getting to that moment probably took him a lot of time and a lot of effort, yet it still caught me off guard. I smiled at the thought. It seems that was the theme of the day.

Speaking of surprises, I blinked when I put another spoonful of curry into mouth and tasted nothing but warm metal. Glancing down, I found that my plate was empty and that the spoon in my mouth began to taste sour.

Suddenly, watching TV didn't sound so appealing anymore.

…

Isshiki Iroha has always played her part.

…

**Chapter End.**

* * *

Sorry again.


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